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Love Him, My Mortal
The dress on her looked like the midnight sky with the full moon on her side.
Hair the color of the trunks that split the sky in the winter sunsets.
Her expression one of pure sincerity.
Would he look at her the way he had in her dreams?
But he didn't. He didn't look at her with lust or any kind of /need/.
He looked at her with the reverence of an astronomer who is the first to discover the secret behind the stars.
As if remembering his own tiny body in the view of the multitudes of universe around him.
As if afraid to breathe in case she was nothing more that the whispers of a Goddess that could be scared away into the forest.
I stood and watched this encounter with wide eyes. One movement would have drawn my blade across his back.
They say to not fall in love with mortal women but I would lose my wings for this girl.
But I gave her to him, unknowingly of both of them. What better for a half-mortal child than a man who could die beside her the way humans do in their old age?
And if my wings blew her hair into her face and dragged her dress a little up her shins, let me remember her the way I had met her first. A wind-blown child in the mountains unafraid of the man who glowed and whose wing-span was larger than the length of her body.
Let my tale be my undoing, but God, I love a mortal woman.
